Over and Over
by zanydrii
Summary: An Enjolras/Grantaire songfic based on the song "Over and Over" by Three Days Grace.


A/N: Well, it seems like I can't write for any other pairing, nor can I write anything that isn't cliché. Oh well. So anyway, here's my first songfic!

DISCLAIMER: If I owned either _Les Miserables _or_ Over and Over_, I would have a lot more money than I do now.

_I feel it everyday it's all the same_

_It brings me down but I'm the one to blame_

He had tried to quit, he really had—but something kept drawing him back. Back to the Musain, back to his beloved Green Faerie, back to everything he would rather leave behind. Back to Enjolras.

_I've tried everything to get away_

_So here I go again_

_Chasing you down again_

_Why do I do this?_

Everyday he asked himself why. It wasn't for the "friends" he had, their shallow smiles ill concealing their disgust. It wasn't even for the illusion that something might be right again, that somehow, dreams could still come true. It definitely wasn't for the republic.

_Over and over, over and over_

_I fall for you_

_Over and over, over and over_

_I try not to_

He supposed it was because of Enjolras. In every aspect, they were opposites—ugly and beautiful, strong and weak, smart and dull, sober and drunk—but it had not always been that way. Once, Grantaire had had dreams, too. He had had ideals, and aspirations, and love. Then he'd made one mistake and thrown it all away.

_It feels like everyday stays the same_

_It's dragging me down and I can't pull away_

It had ruined him, and he would never be the same. He could never move forward, never move back—just sit and watch. It was too late for him. He wouldn't let it be too late for Enjolras.

_So here I go again_

_Chasing you down again_

_Why do I do this?_

Enjolras gave him a reason to keep going. Grantaire would never hope for himself again, too afraid of failure, of inadequacy and disdain, to dream dreams for himself. But it wasn't in Enjolras' stars to fail as he had. Whether he died or not—and he would most assuredly die—his dreams weren't the sort to give up on him, and he wasn't the sort to give up on his dreams.

_Over and over, over and over_

_I fall for you_

_Over and over, over and over_

_I try not to_

On the days when he was too drunk to walk home, Grantaire cried himself to sleep in the back room of the Musain, the looks of disgust and abhorrence Enjolras threw his way haunting his mind and swimming behind his eyes until he finally drifted off. Even after he closed his eyes, though, that gaze still plagued his dreams. It would have been so much easier if love really were only something that existed in fairy tales.

_Over and over, over and over_

_You make me fall for you_

_Over and over, over and over_

_You don't even try_

It was never on purpose that Enjolras had captured his affections, even if Grantaire sometimes pretended that was what happened. No, Enjolras never needed to try, never needed to fight for Grantaire's love—not when he had it already. It was never on purpose that he broke his heart—but he did it anyway.

_So many thoughts that I can't get out of my head_

_I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead_

_I know what's best for me_

_But I want you instead_

Grantaire couldn't remember how many times he had tried to quit. It had to have been hundreds, thousands, maybe. He assured himself that if he could just forget everything, drown himself in drink, that it would make it all better, that everything would finally go away. Every time it did, though, he just felt worse than before. There was a hole in his heart that only Enjolras could fill, even if he tore a new one every day. He was just as much a drug as the absinthe—he hurt Grantaire more all the time, but the momentary sensation of just seeing him, of hearing his voice, made the pain worthwhile, if only for a few moments.

_I'll keep on wasting all my time_

Hope was stupid; it was foolish, trifling, and childish. It crushed hearts, devoured souls, and tore dreams to the ground, selling them for two sous apiece. And as much as he preached against it, hope was all he had.

_Over and over, over and over_

_I fall for you_

_Over and over, over and over_

_I try not to_

And so, Grantaire came again and again, every day, every meeting. He watched as Apollo—_his_ Apollo—spoke with fire in his eyes, dreamed with fire in his heart. Enjolras was a light in the dark, guiding even the blindest man and letting him to see. He was a god.

_Over and over, over and over_

_You make me fall for you_

_Over and over, over and over_

_You don't even try to_

Grantaire wasn't worthy of a god. He shouldn't fall in love with a god. He _couldn't_ fall out of love with a god.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
